Torture Technology
by Nightlore
Summary: As Chris and Sheva make their way into the Ndipaya ruins they are faced with impossible odds, and an old foe will return to end an old rivalry. What other dark secrets lay not far off from the ruins? M for non-con, horror, smut.


**Disclaimer/Warnings**: I own no part of the Resident Evil franchise; this is merely my reinterpretation of Capcom's work. This particular story is rated **M** as it **contains scenes of explicit violence, gore, disturbing imagery, male-on-male intercourse, and extreme non-con action**.

**Notes**: My first story ever published to the site. This piece takes place in RE5 (starting in the Monarch Room Entrance) and continues onward in a location with a backstory I created. As far as I know my story fits well into the RE universe; however if there is a fluke don't bother mentioning it. I also want to note that while I tried to keep Wesker's personality true to his character in the game I also brought out his more violent side as it is rarely seen except only in major fight scenes. Enjoy!

_09/03/2012 – Story was edited and slightly revamped._

* * *

The hiss of hydraulics filled a corridor of chrome as two figures passed through a heavy-duty laboratory door. Their light breathing was like a phantom of sound in the silver passageway, faint and evanescent; hardly leaving a sign of its existence. They stood still, surveying what little they could in the shadows that eluded the light of the nearly naked bulbs hanging overhead.

The taller, masculine entity took the first step, brave but cautious. He aimed his M29 Magnum at the unknown and continued onward. The shorter, feminine counterpart covered him with a HK MP5, a light and suitable submachine gun.

Walking further on, the male's senses were on full alert; just waiting for a threat to present itself. Slowly, he made his way using the very same menacing and combative walk utilized by many military divisions. After a few paces and looking down a minute turn in the hallway, the man signaled to his partner with a wave of his hand. Urging her on with, "Come on. It's all clear, Sheva."

The young woman lowered her weapon, exhaling with relief. Feeling a little more confident in their surroundings they both picked up speed to a light jog as they went on; cautious still. It was only a short distance down the metal passage before the walls seemed to be eroding or uncompleted; right after that they were met with a different surrounding; solid rock. The lights that hung overhead in this spot were simple with metal shades that one would see in any older factory. As they made their way through the mine-like tunnel they entered a large cavern, a breath-taking structure stood before them about a yard away.

It seemed to be some sort of temple built by the Ndipaya people. Flood lights shined upon the ancient stone, adding an almost eerie and majestic effect to the already ominous complex. Silently they admired as their eyes took it all in. Surrounding the path to the temple was various bits of contemporary machinery; a small cage elevator with a simple lever beside it, a draw bridge, and a wide range of construction equipment. The most advanced object in the room was a large industrial door that was the entrance to the temple, the Tricell symbol was painted in bold white on the panel. The draw bridge was raised, leaving a canyon between them and the door.

The man was lost in his thoughts for a moment, "_This is going to get complicated… I can only imagine what's next. We need to-_"

Sheva's voice cut in, "More ruins. You think Excella is here, Chris?"

He gritted his teeth at the thought of the vile woman they were hunting for and then replied with, "If we wanna find out, we're gonna have to lower that bridge."

"Then we need to find the controls. Maybe they're in that building…", her voice calm and calculating.

The building she was referring to was on the right side of the cavern, it was almost like a large utility shed. Chris rested his hand on the long handle and pushed down; it refused to budge. He tried again, a little harder this time. It was not long before he was slightly jiggling the handle in frustration. His attempts produced no results, the door was obviously locked. The two glanced at the yellow front door for a moment. They nodded to each other, as if they were telepathic twins sharing thoughts. Suddenly they were assaulting the door, their shoulders crashed into it in united execution. The door held. They backed up and hit it again with a grunt. Still it remained in place. By now they were punching and kicking it, doing whatever they could manage in hopes of opening the door. Each hit sent out a loud 'klang!' The very structure of the cavern amplified the sound; making it echo throughout.

The sound waves traveled down into the canyon, bouncing off the walls, until the echo was nothing but a vibration at the bottom of the blackness.

Something stirred in the abyss, exposed muscle tissue began to twitch; claws the size of steak knives grinded against hard rock. A mass of fleshless souls huddled together began to wake from their deep sleep. These demons sensed the disturbance even in the deepest part of their hellish subterranean environment. The creatures exhaled as their minds were coming online, creating a sound that was like the malicious whisper of some poltergeist. Suddenly they began to disperse into smaller groups, going into various burrows dug into the walls of the ravine. They were driven by the instinctual craving that is inside every living thing, to consume in order to survive, in this case; that was warm, raw meat.

Back at the top of the gorge, Chris and Sheva leaned against the wall of the shed; panting from the exertion.

"Damn. No good.", Chris sighed.

The dark skinned woman was bent over, resting her hands on her knees as she spoke, "Should we try shooting the lock?"

Her counterpart turned to examine the lock, "No. I don't want to chance it. We could end up jamming the door completely and never get it open. Plus you and I are running low on ammo. Every bullet counts."

Chris internally grimaced at his own words. He knew them to be too true from his past experiences.

Sheva stood up, "Okay then. Let's find another way."

She turned to walk away but Chris stopped her, "Hang on."

With that he kicked in some wooden crates next to the door, brushing away the wood chips with his hand. He plucked a small carton of 9x19mm Parabellum rounds and placed them in the palm of her hand. The young woman greeted the present with a smile and said, "Thanks partner!"

The fellow B.S.A.A. member momentarily stared at her before making an awkward attempt to smile and roll his eyes. Sheva giggled, Chris gave her a look of confusion, and then let out a laugh louder than hers. It was not long before they were both laughing hysterically; neither knowing really why, it was just one of those instances where it was nice to simply enjoy another's happiness. At this point Sheva was clutching her stomach and Chris' face was red. The laughter winded down; they were left grinning at each other; neither wanting it to end. To both of them it was probably one of the most enjoyable moments of the entire mission. The young woman broke the merriment by saying, "I suppose we should start looking for another way in then."

They went around the back of the building to see if there was a window they could break in through, there was only an opening with steel bars. Looking off to the left Chris eyed another power generator with a lever. A bright green light alerted them it was up and running. Chris shrugged at his partner and pulled on the handle. Only seconds after that the sound of a loud electrical hum was emitted from the other side of the cavern. The duo glanced at each other once more but a moment before rushing out to see what the switch had done.

Beside the cage elevator was another switch, a green light was on its dashboard; the first switch had apparently routed power to the elevator. The lift itself was on an upper floor, of which there was nothing but scaffolding that ran all around the cavern. Sheva spoke up, "Perhaps that leads to a rooftop entrance…"

Chris fiddled with his shoes, tightening up the laces before replying with, "Right, because a backdoor would be just too easy."

He grabbed the lever and pulled on it. When the elevator landed on the ground floor Chris was already leaping over the gate. He turned to his partner and said, "I'll go on ahead. You stay here and operate the controls."

The man's chivalrous nature was now shining brighter than ever.

Sheva hesitantly nodded, "Okay.", before activating the switch she said, "Chris…be careful."

The knight's deep blue eyes shimmered as he slightly grinned and gave her a thumbs up. With that Sheva pushed up on the lever, the elevator quickly ascended. The B.S.A.A. agent turned and readied his weapon.

Leaping over the gate, the soles of his feet hit the wooden planking hard. As he walked forward along the scaffolding his ears caught the distinct '_chink_' sound of the chain link fencing being rattled. A dark silhouette was climbing the fence, when it got to Chris' level it torn an opening in the barrier with lethal talons; the metal was cut as if it were nothing but thin paper.

The spiteful shadow quietly landed on the planks, its claws creating a light rapping against the wood. A bone chilling hiss flowed from its lipless mouth. Rows of perfectly aligned, needle sharp teeth glinted in what little light was able to reach there. Suddenly another shadow appeared beside it, both creatures stayed in their respective spots, as if they were waiting for something. Chris squinted his eyes, his visual senses trying hard to adjust to the darkness. Each monster crawled on all fours, having a form somewhat like a panther, had no real form of skin, covered in nothing but oversized veins and red muscle; even their swollen brains were exposed. One suddenly opened its mouth and a long, spear-like tongue flicked out before zipping back into the harsh jaws.

It was then that Chris instantly recalled the nickname for the monsters, "Lickers".

Chris read a report on them awhile back; there were a few reports of rumors about an even more advanced version of this particular creature, dubbed, "Licker Beta". This version supposedly had better hearing and sense of smell, more muscle mass, and worse yet; the ability to reproduce. Judging from the size and shape of the things Chris was beginning to think the reports were more than just stories.

The B.S.A.A. agent took a deep breath in and aimed his magnum at the first Licker. His finger was slowly curling around the trigger. Before he could squeeze it however, an odd '_click_' followed by a hysteric whisper of "Shit!" sounded from the lower levels of the cavern.

Chris looked down to see Sheva working with her sniper rifle. Her hands were moving about the gun in a somewhat frustrated state – her rifle was jammed!

His mind was racked in disbelief, "_Dammit! What are the odds of a semi-automatic rifle that's supposed to be virtually jam-proof screwing up at a time like this?!_"

The demons turned their heads to her direction and gave out a loud shriek. The young woman's face turned as pale as it possibly could, realizing the position she was going to be in. The Lickers ran and leapt off the scaffolding with little effort, as they landed their claws dug up mounds of dirt. They roared at Sheva and began to charge; she turned and made a retreat for the door they entered in.

Chris ran toward the edge of the scaffolding, targeted the beast that was closest to her and fired. A thunderous boom sounded out through the cavern. His hands nearly let the gun jump out of his hands from the intense recoil of the powerful handgun. The bullet found its way into the head of its target, obliterating the brain. The Licker fell to the earth; it skidded across the ground by pure momentum before settling still. Chris gripped the weapon even tighter this time and aimed for the second fiend. He almost had another headshot, but before he could manage it the Licker made another impossible leap; this time landing on Sheva. The beast had the girl on her stomach. It raised one of its ghastly paws high in the air.

A cold wave of horror washed over Chris, he screamed, "Sheva!"

In that instant, Sheva managed to grip her submachine gun with a free hand and blindly aimed it behind her. The automatic weapon announced its presence with a '_cha-cha-cha-cha-cha_'. Each shot in perfect repetition of its predecessor, each bullet pummeling the chest of her assailant like little hornets. After so many shots the Licker screeched and fell on its back.

Sheva rolled over and sat up, aimed for it again, and hammered down on the trigger. The rounds hit the Licker in various spots as it flailed on the ground in pain. It wasn't before long that the monster finally gave out and died, the only movement now was being caused by the shots hitting it. Suddenly it all ended with a clicking, the gun was dry. The dark skinned woman exhaled and rested her head on her knees. She remained that way for a few moments, simply breathing with her eyes closed. Chris jumped down, a light thud escaped from the soles of his shoes. He walked over to his partner and laid a hand on her shoulder.

"You okay?", he asked; his voice full of warmth and concern.

Sheva looked up at him, flushed, but still ready to carry on. "I'm alright. I'm sorry about all that."

The man shook his head, "Don't worry about it. You should know shit like that happens all the time in these missions, especially by now."

He looked into her almond eyes and grinned as he helped her up. She winced in pain and clutched her stomach, "I think that bastard nearly crushed my ribs!"

She laughed at her own deposition, as if trying to make a joke out of it; still looking into Chris' own eyes.

He smirked, "You gonna be able to make it?"

She opened her mouth to answer him but something caught her attention behind him. Gasping, she exclaimed, "Chris! Look!"

A chorus of shrill and hungry cries tore through the air before the agent even began to make the movement.

The man's heart skipped a beat, time was frozen for but a moment as the horrible realization was taking over. Chris turned around and aimed, ready to face the worst. What he saw was almost worse than what he imagined; hordes of the fleshless, blood-thirsty souls were crawling out of the ravine and covering the ceiling of the underground, some already prowling on the floor.

"What now?", the young woman asked in an uneasy tone.

Chris opened his mouth to return a response, but said nothing for what could be considered precious seconds.

He gritted his teeth, and growled, "Shit! We'll have to find another way! Just run!"

Sheva immediately bolted for the doors to the silver corridor, her partner following right behind.

They were almost to the entrance of the tunnel-like hallway before a flash of red landed directly in front of Sheva. Immediately her reflexes kicked in and made her body pull back. A gust of wind washed over her face as a blur went from right to left in front of her eyes; if she'd been any slower a clawed hand would have easily disfigured the beautiful visage. Another crimson form dropped down, closing the space between the door to escape and the now helpless duo. It wasn't long before an entire group of Lickers were forming a circle around them, they were officially trapped.

"Back to back!", Chris shouted.

Quickly Sheva slapped a clip in her submachine gun and got behind him, their backs and heels touching lightly for a split second. They both stared at their opponents with great determination. Neither parties made any sort of movement for some time. The Lickers simply screeched and hissed at their prey as the B.S.A.A. agents held their weapons high.

Without warning one Licker on Chris' end made a rush for them. He squeezed the trigger, hitting the creature in the shoulder blade; screaming in pain as it fell. This action seemed to incite all of the other beasts to attack as they began to charge at the pair. Sheva's MP5 was sputtering shots in rapid succession, while the cylinder of Chris' M29 spun like mad as the bullets exploded from its barrel. The first wave of Lickers fell easily on both sides. However, due to the limits of Chris' revolver, he had to reload after he killed his six targets; and another wave was already swarming them.

His voice was barely audible over the gunfire as he said, "Sheva! I'm out! Cover me!"

He kneeled and tried to make himself as small as possible, his partner quickly turned around; not bothering to take her finger off the trigger. The rounds peppered the B.O.W.s and kept them at bay. Her peripheral vision found that they were about to be attacked from behind as well. Sheva spun herself, her shapely hips and the tips of her brown leather boots making the elegant, deadly motion possible; again not letting go of the trigger. It was almost like a dance at this point, one that was keeping them safe as Chris worked on making his gun lethal once more. As he shoved the last .44 round in the cylinder his hand automatically found the newest and closest threat, immediately firing thereafter. Upon hearing the shot the dark skinned girl returned her focus on her original side, Chris stayed on his knees, being closer to the ground made his shots more stable. The man grinded his teeth together and eliminated another Licker.

When one was destroyed there was another to replace it. There was almost a pile of the outlandish beings at this point.

His next target was in his sights, yet it didn't rush at him like the others. Instead it dug its claws into the ground and suddenly a flash spewed from its mouth, Chris felt a sharp pain in his left shoulder. His brain was screaming that something completely alien was in his body as the sensation heightened. The man's ocean blue eyes saw that the tip of the creature's tongue was now embedded into his flesh. In a frantic rush he gripped the long, leathery meat and tried to dislodge it from his shoulder. It began to twist and squirm violently in response, worsening the pain.

He yelled for Sheva. The dark skinned girl turned to him; she blinked in disbelief before coming to his aid. She tried pulling on it with him but to no avail, with that her hands quickly drew her knife from its sheath. Her hands gripped the handle tightly as she gave a rapid and direct slash to the B.O.W.'s tongue. It severed the first few inches of it, having enough force to actually knock the tip out of Chris' shoulder where it landed in the dirt to wiggle a little. The rest of it instantaneously retreated back into the gapping maw of the Licker. Chris took the initiative and shot the monster in vengeance, his perfect aim and the power of the gun nearly caused the Licker's head to be blown off.

"Thanks."

They both returned to their original positions, continuing their battle for survival against the horde of bizarre monsters.

While they never admitted it to each other both agents were beginning to feel as if there was no hope at that moment. The smell of smoke filled the air from the incessant gunfire, and along with that the stinking bodies of the dead and living Lickers. The roar of shots and cries of hungry beasts had consumed their ear drums to the point of almost being deaf. Chris knew he'd be running out again soon. His hands searched all his pockets; he had two cases of ammunition left – a mere twelve bullets. For these two heroes, the prize of life would not come easy.

Inside the metallic door to the temple, another pair of souls were playing a different game; a game of waiting, rather than a game of survival. They stood in the middle of a large chamber made of hard stone, much like the exterior of the temple. The room was wide-open and contained nothing within save for twin staircases and alcoves that ran along the walls. A slender and ghostly form was draped in a military camo-colored cloak, the beak of a plague doctor's mask of old medieval Europe protruded from the darkness of the hood, shrouding the figure in mystery. This enigmatic individual stood still in solemn silence. The other however, was a man who needed no mask to hide behind; a man whose existence was the very epitome of sinister and domineering entities. Dressed in all black spy ops gear that was as dark as winter night skies; a contrast to his creamy, porcelain skin. There was no obscurity about him; his very movements spoke loudly of his persona. Running a leather-gloved hand through his golden blonde hair, he made sure each strand was perfectly slicked back. Just the way he liked it. The rays of the few lights that hung about in the room glinted off the black sunglasses, nefariousness radiated from him like a miasma. Listening to the sounds of heavy gunfire outside the door, a menacing smirk appeared on his perfectly chiseled face.

"Excella…", the soft white lips announced, "The Monarch Room is about to be compromised. I'm going to wait a bit longer before I entertain our guests. Is everything ready?" Each word that flowed effortlessly off of the gentleman's tongue was spoken with a light, enticing British accent.

A static ridden voice of a young female echoed out of a speaker somewhere on his person, despite the noisy hiss, one could still detect a seductive Latin-kissed intonation, "Yes, Albert. Everything is ready. You won't be much longer, will you?" The voice's owner was obviously beautiful.

"Albert" didn't seem to be phased or interested by this fact as he replied, "Good. I'll return to the ship soon. Continue with the plans until my arrival."

Excella replied, "Yes, darling. Don't take too long."

After his beautiful Italian partner finished her transmission the villain listened intently to the skirmish outside a little longer. As he heard the sounds of combat it began to make something stir within him, it began like a tiny flame deep within his chest, and then it would consume the rest of his body in seconds. The intensity of it was like the world's worst fever. The black gloved hands clenched into tight fists, his jugular vein would begin to bulge out of his neck as his blood pressure rose, tiny beads of perspiration would dot his forehead, his breathing became extremely heavy and deep, inexplicable waves of anger would plague his mind; whether they be madness over major instances in the past or miniscule notes of annoyance in the present. Albert simply wanted to find the nearest breathing soul in the room and execute the most horrid acts of mutilation and degradation upon them as they trembled in fear of his overwhelming and godlike greatness. Even his associate standing next to him was no exception to this deranged desire, no one was.

"_That little bitch is useless… Isn't any good for conversation even without the control device… Excella is more entertaining even in her dullest moments and that's all the time! So pathetic and weak… Needs a leash to be worthy… …Could tear off arms first… Hit the head… Break the knees_…"

A memory from a long forgotten past danced in his mind like water being sloshed in a bucket. A life sized model of the human anatomy lay before him, he was surrounded by familiar men and women in their early 20's, all dressed in uniforms, a man stood in front next to the plastic body speaking inaudibly about it. He pointed at it with a stick, his voice was suddenly clear, "…_the femoral artery reaches the space behind the knee. It gives blood to the knee joint itself and muscles in the thighs and calves of the legs_."

Like a channel changing on a television set another memory cut abruptly into this one. He was now standing before a group of men in white lab coats, they all stared at him intently, another body lay before him, this one however, was made of flesh and blood. The disturbing thing about it was that it was rotting to the point where it was almost genderless. It thrashed in shackles that bound it to the table, screaming for freedom. He could hear his own voice now, "…_while it is in essence immortal, it is still susceptible to decay. It feels no pain however. It can go for weeks without a meal. Like in the movies, the main drawback to the reanimated is that they are slow, physically and mentally; and any major damage to the central nervous system renders them useless. Essentially, you destroy the head, you destroy it_."

The memories were suddenly switched off, his mind focusing back to the mockery of medieval flare.

"…_destroy the head… I could break it… twist it off…_"

He imagined grabbing the shadow by the head and turn the skull like a corkscrew until the all the mechanics of the body were separated and able to be torn off, blood and gore spewing everywhere, showering the walls in red; the body would fall to the ground like a trash bag, the folds of the cloak fluttering as it went down. This macabre imagery gave him a hard erection; it was like steel between his legs.

Then the cloaked guardian looked to him, as if sensing the attention and possible intentions of the man. The bloodlust suddenly subsided, the homicidal fever left as if it never happened. For a brief moment "Albert" was worn out, these cravings for violence would occur randomly ever since his change into what he defined as a higher being years ago at a somber and demented mansion that had long since been destroyed; injecting himself with something that endowed him with superhuman abilities, something that took the real humanity out of him. What coursed in his blood now was something not much different than what made the horrors that were outside the door. "Albert" hadn't been "Albert" for a long time now.

The man pushed his sunglasses back to their correct position as they had slid down his nose during his slight episode.

"I tire of this… Let's put our two cents in, shall we?"

The plague doctor said nothing, only moving toward the door as a response.

The conflict between the heroic duo and the nightmares raged on. The temple grounds now a wasteland of B.O.W.s graves.

Chris and Sheva had made no headway even at this point; in fact they had been pushed further away from their escape route; to the middle of the grotto. As each bullet was fired off the light of hope grew a little dimmer, Sheva's submachine gun had been doing most of the work as Chris' magnum could only do so much due to little ammunition. The young girl turned to him, "How many of them are there?! This is insane!"

The man made no attempt to answer her; he simply started using the last of his ammo. He tried burying his feelings of hopelessness in a veil of calm anger.

His last shot impaled a Licker off to Sheva's left side, hitting it in the neck; a gaping hole was left in its place. He opened the cylinder to the gun and the shell casings landed in a little pile. Now they had to rely on one weapon that only had one clip left. The female agent nodded as a sign of thanks, and gripped the MP5 with both hands; exhaled, then began her final assault on the monsters.

The young woman barely even made sure her shots hit their mark, some found their way into the hide of the Lickers; some just embedded themselves into the dirt. Just wildly shooting at whatever was in her general direction. Her usually civilized brown eyes were cold as ice now.

It didn't take long before the disheartening sound of an empty clip was once again heard.

Sheva ejected the clip, "What should we do now, Chris?"

She was almost looking to the ground as she said this.

Five of the monsters were already advancing toward them, slinking over the dead bodies of their pack; the distance growing shorter between them with each breath taken. Her partner remained silent, staring at their opponents with a glare.

"Chris…?", more pressing this time.

The man bit his lower lip in angst; his right foot kicked up a cloud of dirt as he began to lose his cool. He yelled, "Son of a bitch!"

Without warning he charged straight toward the oncoming dangers. His arms and legs moved in harmony for awesome sprinting power.

Sheva was left speechless, she opened her mouth to scream, but was too dumbfounded to put forth vocal effort.

The Licker closest to Chris leapt high into the air, utilizing its back legs like a frog. It intended to land on Chris as the one before it had done with Sheva. He skidded to a stop and watched the monster soar through the air, its size growing bigger as momentum brought it closer to him. Its jaws hung open, unable to wait for its meal any longer. Only seconds before its body mass would pound him into the ground, Chris reacted by making a right hook; the force of his hard fist was enough to send the Licker flying backwards. It lay on its back, a heart the size of a salad bowl was exposed, simply beating outside what would be a natural environment, just like its brain.

The dark-haired man drew a machete from its sling on his left shoulder blade. He held it high before bringing it down upon the creature, the point of the weapon buried itself deep into the sinewy membranes. A torrent of blood gushed out, spraying Chris in the face and arms. It was hot like fire; there was a weird feeling about it, maybe because it wasn't the blood of a normal living thing. He jumped back from the dying beast, careful to avoid the claws that were being thrashed around in its death-throws.

His eyes sought out the next rival. Adrenaline was scorching through his body now, his senses were now at the highest level a human being could attain. Another one was right beside him; it tried to skewer him with its long tongue. However he was quick to side-step it, and even quicker to grab the unnatural appendage; feeling the warm and slimy saliva with fingers his glove didn't cover. He wasted no time in hacking it off before seeking another to eliminate.

All three remaining B.O.W.s were fixed on him; galloping at full speed. Sheva was too far away to do anything; there wasn't much she could do in the first place. Chris managed to fall on his back before the claws of the first could tear into him, but he knew there was no escaping the next waves of attack. Those hideous talons would find their way into his gut and eviscerate him instantly. He grew cold as he watched the organic weapons swoop in to finish his life. His mind crushed the last bit of hope, ready to accept this outcome. They were close enough that his upper body was sprayed with a mist of disgusting spit from the things. Another millisecond and he'd know no more. His lungs took in a gulp of air. Suddenly he saw a dark flare smash into his would-be death bringers, hurling them against the rock wall.

Chris rolled onto his side and got to his feet as fast as he could. More Lickers gathered around them, they made no hostile movements. They remained on the edge of the ravine, screeching at their attacker. They were afraid.

He watched another blur leap across the chasm with little effort; it landed next to the mystery guest that saved him.

His cerulean eyes grew wide in anger; his savior was none other than his former S.T.A.R.S. captain, Albert Wesker, a traitor to both his old colleagues and the infamous Umbrella Corporation.

"Wesker!"

The ghost from the past turned a shoulder and smiled at him, "You kept me waiting, Chris. Quite frankly I'm disappointed. I think the hero complex is going to someone's head a little too much."

Sheva's face was full of confusion, "Who the hell is this? Another terrorist?"

Wesker acknowledged her presence with a nod before saying, "Ah you've found yourself a new partner, eh? Pity you couldn't do a better job of keeping the first one." His smile grew wider; a joker who knew all the world's cruelest gags.

The dark-haired man shook his fist, "Where's Jill?!"

Wesker walked a little closer to his compatriot. His hand tugged on the hood of the cloak and then knocked the mask off, the mystery falling with it. The devilish gentleman said with a grin, "Isn't it nice for everyone to be together again?"

Jill Valentine's eyes made a delayed blink as she stared off into space. Chris lost all feeling for a moment; his mind was wracked by shock. "Jill…?"

Her physical attributes were the same for the most part, except that her hair was now blonde and her eyes were an unnatural blue; all due to a harsh process that had been forced upon her by her captor. The worst of it was that her face lacked any real emotion, it was as if her body were devoid of a soul; a disturbing china doll.

The blonde gentleman spoke, "You'll have to excuse her, Chris. She's not all there. However she makes the perfect lap dog, listens to every command I give her."

"Y-y-you bastard! I'll kill you!" The ex-subordinate yelled with pure hatred.

He ran towards Wesker, the blonde was in sight for one moment, and then vanished into thin air the next. Chris felt the instinctual sensation of someone behind him, he turned around; a fist drove painfully into his face. He shrugged it off; Chris tried to return the swing but was not fast enough. His attempt at a counterattack was met with another punch to the face. Suddenly Wesker was hitting him at a furious pace, leaving his rival little room to even breathe. Since his enemy had inhuman strength and speed, it was all Chris could do to block a few punches and kicks here and there. His body was taking most of the hits; he wouldn't be able to keep this up much longer. Blood was now dribbling down the left corner of his mouth.

He saw Sheva running towards them both with her knife drawn. She lodged the point of the weapon deep into Wesker's lower back. The man grunted in irritation. In the blink of an eye he faced her and pushed her away, the young woman tumbled backward for some distance. She stopped herself, stood up, and went after him again.

While Wesker was about to make his next move on Sheva, Chris made his own attempt to stab him. However Jill darted in front of him and grabbed his hands. Sheva was only a few feet away when Wesker disappeared again; he dashed to the crowd of Lickers that had been watching the scene play out in fear and curiosity. He kicked one on its back and pinned it down with his foot, his hand dove down; with one decisive motion he was able to rip the heart of the creature right out of its chest; the way a Grizzly bear scoops a fish out of water. With that he tossed the still beating organ at her, it hit Sheva's shirt with a smack. She cried out in utter disgust and surprise, brushing it off with her hands frantically. It took only mere seconds for all of this to take place.

The ex-S.T.A.R.S. captain made a dismissive gesture with a hand, "Ms. Valentine, would you mind taking care of our new friend?"

Before the woman could move, Chris' hands gripped her wrists. "Don't listen to him, Jill! You don't have to do this! Snap out of it!" His voice was full of desperation. However his pleas would not be heard, his former partner simply shoved him onto the ground then took off towards Sheva.

Chris yelled, "Run Sheva! Get outta here!"

As she began dodging various attacks from her latest opponent she asked, "What about you?!"

"I'll be fine. I'll think of something! Now run!"

When Jill tried to strike her face, Sheva grabbed her by the wrist and grappled her to the ground. She gave her partner one last nod before sprinting to her escape. Wesker made no attempt at going after her, he simply sighed in agitation. Jill Valentine jumped to her feet and began trailing her target. Both women disappeared into the tunnel, the sound of the doors opening and closing followed not long afterward.

Wesker shook his head, "Good help is so hard to find these days."

His fist hit hard into Chris' stomach, nearly knocking the wind out of him. The dark-haired man struggled to breathe, he felt Wesker deliver another blow to the back of his head. Darkness closed in on him even quicker now. As he fell to the ground his consciousness was overtaken. The ex-S.T.A.R.S. captain stood over his prey. He gazed upon the now calm face of his adversary, the sapphire blues of his eyes shined even through the half-open eyelids. This man had caused so many troubles for Wesker over the years, then again, due to his meddling; he also opened up a lot of opportunities as well. No one was more annoying and interesting at the same time to Wesker. Albert Wesker had always known he hated the man, yet there was also a twisted admiration for him too that lay in secret. More memories concerning Chris came to him, from working with him in Raccoon's Police Station to the events that took place at the Spencer Estate.

Excella's voice interrupted the reverie, "Albert…? Are you almost finished dealing with the intruders?"

The static was worse now.

His expression was blank, "We're going to wait a bit longer before we begin the operation. I have some old loose ends that need to be…tied up. Are you finished with preparations?"

The seductress purred, "Everything is ready, but we should go ahead as planned. Forget about those little nuisances, our world is waiting for us, darling. You're not about to waste precious time on them are you?"

The psychotic rage began to bubble up, "_How dare that tawdry slut try to tell me what to do! That whore doesn't even have the room in her loose cunt to harbor such insolence!_"

"Who is paving the way to 'our world' Excella? – I am! I give the orders and you carry them out! If you try to disregard my authority one more time I'll make you regret it! Do you understand?"

Her voice was full of reserved anger, like a child with hurt pride, "Yes, Albert."

The berserk fever subsided within him a little, "Good. Now remain on stand-by. No actions are to be carried out until I'm finished. Have our little puppet take care of any other flies if need be. Do not contact me unless it is under the most severe conditions."

"Very well." were her last words before the signal faded out.

Wesker stared at Chris a little longer, "I think it's time we finished this little game." He brought his face closer to the sleeping victim, "Yes. What a perfect way to begin my journey into a new world…by destroying the old facets of the past."

Chris' body was taken far away from the temple, to a more remote and bleak underworld. He regained consciousness for brief moments as his body was dragged along. One minute he was in the ancient passages of the Ndipaya civilization, the next he saw the winding, sterile hallways of modern man. The further he was pulled along the more he felt uneasy. In the darkness of these pathways Chris could feel the presence of things he couldn't begin to describe, other than that they were horrible and alive. Demons that were primitive and long forgotten, they simply stared at him and his captor as they made their way before wandering the phantasmagoric corridors once more. Concrete floors and plaster ceilings lead to large barricades and foreboding doors. This place did not want to be found, it was something that was not for the outside world.

Just before they turned another corner and went down some steps, Chris would black out again. He would not wake up for some time.

Eventually those blue eyes retained life once again, even if only a weak and half-hearted grasp of it. They scrutinized their owner's environment; his mind tried to piece together what little images he could see in the harsh black.

He was sitting against a concrete wall and it was apparent that the whole room was made of it. He had been stripped down to his boxers, his hands and feet were bound by metal shackles so old they were rusting.

The structure of the room gave him the impression that it was considerably large in size. There were rows of metal tables further down from him, naked lightbulbs hung over them. There were large slate coloured boxes next to them; they were almost as high as the ceiling. Most were covered in large knobs and buttons with screens; archaic laboratory computers, the kind seen in 70's B-movie sci-fi flicks.

He could see open doorways that lead off into other large chambers. The room was hot; the air was practically scorching his skin. It reeked of death, old death; corpses that were rotting forever. He couldn't see any bodies but he knew they were somewhere near. The smell almost burnt his nose as much as the hot air did. A cold draft escaped from somewhere and covered him; it wasn't a relief by any means. It was like a shock to his system. Wherever he was, it was a place that was devoid of joy and relief. A feeling of tension and fear churned in his stomach, instinct told him that this was probably one of the most atrocious places in the world and he hadn't even seen the half of it yet. He felt as though he were about to throw up, a sickness was overtaking him. It wasn't any common sickness, it was the very spirit of this place; some would liken it to a feeling when visiting somewhere like Auschwitz.

He thought he could hear whispering coming from the other room, yet it didn't seem as if there was anyone really there; as if the horrible memories of the chamber were still going on like ghosts in a haunted house. A woman's crying cut in, it was definitely in the room with him. "Hello…?", Chris called out, praying that someone was actually there. His voice suggested he was still wasn't fully conscious.

Suddenly a bright light filled the room. It stung his eyes; he did his best to cover them with his hands. He heard Wesker's voice, "Ah finally awake are we?"

The buzzing of the lights were loud now as they probably hadn't been used for quite some time.

He could hear a couple popping from the sudden power surge. He felt Wesker come closer to him, his boots clomping on the hard floor as he walked. "I hope you like my choice in attire this evening. I think it suites the occasion quite well."

Chris narrowed his eyes, trying his best to see his captor. The blonde man was now dressed in his old S.T.A.R.S. uniform; the shadowy colors making him look just as intimidating in his spy gear. Wesker's pale skin almost melted into the bright white light, this imagery made him look like a god. "Well now, it looks like you're in quite a predicament aren't you, Chris?"

His captive sneered, "Go to Hell, Wesker!"

The blonde gentleman gave a sinister chuckle, "Ha ha! Look around you, Chris! We are in Hell!"

Chris took his word and tried opening his eyes a little more. He had to wait a moment to let the retina burn clear from his vision. As it faded away the room began to take on even more shape. Two Majini men were silently standing guard in the northern doorway. The metal tables had leather straps to hold their occupants down. A charred corpse sat in a chair, slumped over against the computer terminal; a few were scattered about on the floor. Beyond the tables there were many strange machines of all shapes and sizes that obviously performed some gruesome feat, for example one was what looked like a dentist's padded chair with a metal arc full of needles and wires going across the headrest and another was a platform with a bunch of clamps that were linked to what looked like electrical generators. The chamber was packed with these deranged contraptions, most of them were stained with blood; here and there a burnt cadaver would still inhabit one, these bodies clearly had something done to them before they were burned. Most of them were larger than an ordinary man, some had animalistic teeth and claws, some were sprouting extra limbs; in one way or another they were all abnormal and disfigured. He realized more than half of the room had to have been damaged by fire; burn marks covering the walls and the objects within them.

Chris yelled, "What the fuck is this place?!", mortified as he looked upon the demented torture technology.

Wesker replied with a mock informative tone, "This 'place' is a testing facility. In fact it was the first of its kind and it is where Umbrella's roots really originated from. All documents refer to this site as UM-001 or by its codename 'Hell's Root'. Rather appropriate don't you think?", he took a moment to fully recollect his own facts as he stared at the various objects in the room.

He then continued on, "This facility is the location where Lord Ozwell E. Spencer first tested the Progenitor virus shortly after its discovery by both he and his colleague, Edward Ashford. Of course, dear Edward was hoping to do the 'noble' cause of using the virus' regenerative properties to heal the disabled and sick. Lord Spencer, however, was dreaming of a bio-weapons division that would make him a god. So while old Edward was alive, Spencer built this site not far off from the ancient ruins and played out his dream in secrecy. Hell's Root is probably the only secret Umbrella was ever able to keep and that's the very reason why you and your little B.S.A.A. members or anyone else for that matter never knew about it."

Chris returned the sarcasm, "That's unfortunate. Looks like our reconnaissance and research teams overlooked something for once. I'll have to have a word with them when I get back."

The crazed blonde continued, "But you haven't even begun to fully understand the importance of it all, Chris!"

He grabbed his prisoner by the head and forced him to look to the left…

A massive pit had been constructed a couple feet away from the torture devices; an overwhelming pile of mutated dead filled it to the brim. It was nothing but a mass of distorted arms, heads, legs, hair, and a general mixture of bloody mess. The bright lights that shined upon the altered garbage started to almost bake the flesh, making the stench even worse. Dead eyes watched their onlookers with disturbing ferocity.

"Thousands of people were randomly selected and abducted from wherever they might be found. Chained and dragged into this place to suffer, never to be seen again…"

Chris started to hallucinate from pure shock, these poor souls began to cry out in anguish and unrest; writhing in this trench of biological trash; this house of torture never letting them rest.

Wesker snickered as he looked upon them, "Ah yes. Failed experiments… Hopeful tests that fell short… The real achievements of this place are just over here!" He dragged his captive by his legs into another room off to the right.

Again Chris' stomach churned with the thought of something even worse. He fully knew Umbrella's and its former employees' idea of so-called 'success', and it was never a good thing.

This chamber was smaller compared to the torture room itself; it housed a row of bulky computers on either side. At the end of it were three cryogenic tanks, the glass panels on each of them had been broken, and all of them contained massive lumps of charred meat…

It took a few minutes for Chris to make anything out of them. The first tank on the left held a girl, probably no more than nineteen years of age. She had two sets of arms, with one set positioned on the upper part of her torso much like a normal human being; the second set were protruding from the sides of her ribs. Each hand had claws about ten inches in length. Her jaw had dropped to an amazing depth; as if it were able to unhinge so it could swallow a small animal whole; lined with sharp teeth. On the left was a man, probably in his early thirties. His body was like that of a body builder, he didn't have hands; at the end of his arms were nothing nubs with spikes covering them; something akin to a Morningstar. Sharp barbs covered his back like a porcupine. Chris couldn't imagine what these two people might have looked like alive due to them being so badly burned, probably more than the corpses in the other room.

Both of these monstrosities mortified the hero, but they could never measure up to what he saw in the middle container.

It was a woman, perhaps in her mid-twenties. Her face wasn't as scorched as the others; in fact all that was really burned were her plump lips. Amazingly enough decay had hardly set in too. It was easy to see what she looked like before this tragedy befell her. Her features were nothing short of breath-taking and exquisite, she was obviously of Arabic descent; perhaps even the very descendant of the famous Egyptian queen, Nefertiti.

Had it not been for the harsh conditions her jet black hair probably would have framed it perfectly. Her body was just as beautiful, except what the experiments had done to it. An array of large tentacles extended outward from various spots in her now sickly-looking skin. The worst of it, a small body down to the torso sprawled out from her swollen belly; she had been pregnant during the testing. There was nothing to discern about the baby as it was burnt beyond recognition other than it seemed to have once been a physical part of her; the mutation fusing them together. This atrocity rocked his sense of humanity as he did his best to swallow bile induced by the sight. His eyes squinted shut to hold back tears.

His mind, for whatever reason, conjured an image of the beautiful woman and her baby; alive and well. She was wrapped in beautiful white lien; she held her newborn close to her face. She was smiling in complete contentment as she stood next to a small oasis in the middle of some nameless desert.

Unfortunately, a far cry from what fate life had dealt her. Now she was a dead monster, her body leaning against her final resting place; her slowly putrefying golden eyes staring at them in remorse and cynical contempt. As if she were at the ready to send the horrid world that bestowed this ghastly outcome upon her into spiteful nothingness. This beautiful woman and her unborn child were now nothing but a carcass of a man-made horror.

Chris looked to Wesker, seeing him smile at the grotesque picture before them. He was admiring the whole thing, especially the woman. With a great tone of respect in his voice he said, "The Lady of Flame… She and her two siblings you see here were the first viable hosts for the Progenitor virus; their rare genetic make-up made them able to withstand and combine with it, unlike the disfigured and weak miscreants you saw in the testing room. Although the Lady was far more advanced than her siblings, you could say she was the first of the Tyrant series before the idea of Tyrants were even thought of. This woman became something even more complex than that relentless experiment, Lisa Trevor, so much that she retained more than seventy percent of her mental capacity. Essentially she was still 'human' even after her transformation."

Again Chris nearly threw up, the very notion of that killing him inside. "Why in the hell would anyone do this?! This is beyond insanity!"

The blonde gentleman sighed, "Oh don't fret about it, Chris. Afterall, her humanity is what freed all those worthless souls and delivered that little thing you love so much…justice. You see, being that it was pure luck that she was created, Spencer and his hapless team of scientists knew hardly anything about their powerful creation or bio-weapons in general. Somehow The Lady woke up ahead of schedule, taking them all by complete surprise. She broke out of her cryogenic tank and when she realized what had been done to her, she went wild. Not only did her tentacles sever heads and smash obstructions, she breathed flames; hence her name. Even her blood had the ability to summon them. Obviously you've already seen the chaos she left in her wake. She practically bathed this place and its inhabitants in a sea of fire. Once she was finished destroying the facility and the researchers she returned here to burn her siblings and eventually, herself and her unborn child. After that, Spencer decided to recover what little he could and abandoned the entire complex. To this day The Lady is one of the few humans to have made this much of a transformation and have her mind survive the trials of viral-induced evolution... Well before myself that is."

Chris looked once more at the ill-fated woman, letting the sickening story play out in his mind as he asked, "Why did you take me here?"

His eyes were closed as he spoke the words.

Wesker scoffed, laughing as he said, "Have you still not grasped it? This site is the archetype for the misfortunes that would follow Umbrella! The very place where all your yesterdays, your life's purpose began… And this is where it ends for you, and where I start my reign in a new world order of perfect evolution!"

The man's arms were out-stretched in psychopathic grandeur as he began to envision it all.

Chris spat, "Like hell it is! Listen, whatever you've got planned for Uroboros it won't work! You'll fail just like Umbrella did!"

The statement caused that homicidal rage to swell within the antagonist like a storm once more as he stomped on his victim, "And why will I fail, Chris? Because your stupid hero complex tells you that righteousness will prevail?! Ha! Your feeble lowly mind couldn't even conceive the importance of my plans or my higher existence!"

His prey tried to laugh as best as he could in his circumstances, "Ha ha! Higher existence? In those dorky aviators? That shit you injected yourself with in the mansion really has an impact on your sense of humor you know that? You're funnier than when we worked together!"

Wesker grinded his teeth before he replied, "I see you haven't lost your touch with those annoying, cheeky comments… I think someone needs a little bit of the water treatment. Let's begin!"

With that the angered god grabbed Chris by a handful of the dark auburn hair and dragged him along once again. The prisoner fought him as much as he could as they crossed the torture chamber and headed into the northern room where the Majini stood. It was the smallest of them all, the walls were dirty and the concrete cracked. Chris didn't have time to see what was actually inside before his face was hovering over a large bucket of water, and within seconds, his whole head was dunked under. The water was freezing as Antarctic seas; it felt like tiny needles were poking his head and neck. It was extremely difficult to breathe because he barely managed to take a gulp of air before his head was forced under.

Wesker pulled him back up, "We're going to have fun, Chris…"

Instantly he felt his suppressor's hand push down again, the cold water consumed him again. The dark-haired prisoner tried his best to fight back this time, his bound arms and legs made an awkward attempt to strike Wesker. It was a futile gesture as Wesker tightened his grip on him.

"Well, well I think someone's smart mouth has landed them in quite a fix." His voice was warped by the atmosphere of the water as it reached the victim's ears under it. Chris could feel parts of his face going slightly numb from it. He made another desperate attempt at getting his neck free from Wesker's grip.

The tyrant moved directly behind his victim and held him down with great strength. He leaned in closer to watch him struggle; his psychopathic ego was excited by the very sight of this. The small of Chris' back brushed against his groin as the man fought for survival. This simple contact offset the demented mind to spin a maniacal scheme; a lustful, primal craving arose. Once again he experienced an extreme erection.

At this very moment he desired nothing more than a warm, tight hole to sate the carnal demands of his body…and to him Chris was the perfect outlet for this.

He pulled Chris up again and grabbed him by the chin; looking him in the eyes, "Oh yes Chris…we're going to have _lots_ of fun!"

With that he pushed him into the chilling water again. Wesker wrapped one arm around his captive's waist, pulling him close so that he could feel the massive hard-on inside the confines of Wesker's pants. Chris was weakening at this point, he could barely register what was going on, yet his mind made the connection of what was digging into his lower back. The captive thrashed wildly, splashing water in every direction; nearly knocking the pail over. Wesker's hold on him kept his head in the bucket despite this. At this point it was the longest Chris had been under the water and with this exertion his body was completely wore out. It felt as if his lungs might collapse at any moment. The muscles in his arms and legs became stiff as he felt himself succumbing to the icy water. He was about to black out when his tormentor pulled his head out. Chris coughed up water, spitting it out onto the slate gray concrete and gasped for air. The blonde devil laughed as he watched his prey coughing and heaving for breath. The hero looked at him with complete anguish as he weakly murmured, "Twisted…fucker…"

Wesker ignored the comment and pinned him firmly against the wall with one hand. The tyrant watched his prisoner's lips tremble from the submergence into cold water, blue eyes looked into the dark lenses of the shades; those eyes were full of intensity but with discretion; waiting for whatever might come next. Wesker let his free hand drag roughly down the perfectly smooth and sculpted chest. He brought his mouth close to Chris' right ear and whispered, "You can't even begin to imagine how 'twisted' I can be…"

Chris fully realized what was about to happen to him; his masculine face was full of fear and desperation.

Wesker's gloved hand began to tug at the waistband of Chris' black boxers, pulling them down his knees before tearing them off of him. Beautifully bronzed skin was now perfectly exposed to the brute and the hot air of the room. Predatory eyes looked the well-toned and built figure from head to toe, briefly focused on the decently sized, flaccid organ that lay in a tiny patch of dark auburn hair. Wesker smiled in approval, "Well done, Chris. I expect nothing less from my former men."

The captive sneered, "Fuck you! I should have known you were gay!"

The tyrant laughed lightly, "That's hardly the case! I've given Excella quite a few good times, even those little whores in the R.P.D. gave it up to me; from the bitchy secretaries to those tom-boy officers. However, I must say there was always something about you Officer Redfield, and I intend to find out what that something is…"

The black glove slithered down Chris' thigh before slipping behind him and squeezing his shapely hind quarters. The porcelain lips wrapped themselves around the creamy peach colored mouth of his victim. His captive's body tensed up, pulling himself away from his antagonist as much as he could. The lustful god's thick, fleshy tongue forced its way inside the younger man's reluctant mouth; where it entwined around his own.

The devious blonde thrust his hips forward, his crotch grinding against the helpless captive's soft member. Wesker purred as he began to pry further into his enemy's mouth, slipping back almost into his throat. When the conqueror was satisfied with the oral exchange, he stepped back. The imprisoned agent was beyond repulsed by it all; he gathered the tainted spit in his throat and spat at his rival's face. Wesker licked his lips and wiped the saliva from the corners of his mouth. The villainous blonde grabbed his captive by the jaw, directing his attention to a corner opposite of the pair. A black metal cabinet the size of a man lay upright and open; the box was filled with large spikes. This was none other than an Iron Maiden, a torture device of old – a darkly humorous contrast to the mechanisms in the other room. A smirk appeared over the pallid lips, suggesting a cruel intention.

Chris' heart stopped for a moment, his mind and body bracing for the gruesome outcome. The sharp spikes seemed to get larger the more he stared at them, as if they couldn't wait to puncture his skin. He felt himself being flung at the harsh machine, in seconds he'd be swallowed up by it and the spiky points would impale him. He was right in front of the door before he was jerked to a halt, and he saw a flash of something taking his place inside the evil box. It was one of the Majini men; his body became rigid as the points of the barbs pierced his flesh; the eerie crunching sound of his spine being crushed escaped from the lethal casket. The parasite infested being made no cries of pain, nothing except a slight grunt as his frame began to sink deeper into the box. Wesker slammed the lid shut hard, the spikes on the back of it making a disturbing noise as they dug into the unfortunate soul. An elaborate craving of a full-bodied woman was on the other side, there was a gap where her eyes should be so that the victim could look out. The Majini's brown eyes stared out at him, there was no expression in them; it was probably a good thing that he'd had a parasite take over him. Chris' heart was beating furiously as he realized Wesker's arm stopped him from going in and probably forced the creature to take his place. The tormentor was laughing hysterically, "Poor loathsome creature. He's not been feeling anything for awhile now anyway!"

The young man growled, "You're out of your fucking mind!"

Wesker looked him in the eyes as he chuckled, "Oh come on, Chris! Do you honestly think I'd go through all this trouble just to let a silly contraption have the pleasure?"

He let his captive slump to the ground, walked over to the Iron Maiden, and then gave it a light tap with his foot. After staring at it for a bit he turned his attention back to his prey.

"Now then… We should be getting started; I'm a man who enjoys long hours of foreplay after all. I promise you, Chris, by the time you're halfway through the pain you'll be begging me to give you the pleasure; the very man who you deem your eternal enemy."

The auburn-haired man gave no verbal response; he simply looked at his enemy with complete disdain. Wesker dragged Chris to a large chain that hung in the middle of the room, there was a hook dangling at one end. The blonde fed the shackles that bound his captive's hands through the curve in the hook. He walked to small control panel near the right side of the doorway into the room and pushed a button. Chris saw the slack in the chain began to lessen and in seconds he felt himself being lifted off the ground. When the hidden gears finished winding the chain he was dangling about two and a half feet off the floor. Already the dead weight of his body was hurting his arms, but he knew it was only going to get worse from there.

Wesker's sexual appetite grew fiercer still as he looked upon the sight of his prey hanging helplessly. He casually approached his victim; letting his lips and the tip of his nose lightly brush against the toned stomach in front of him when he got close enough. He could hear the furious beating of his prey's heart even from there. The villain looked up at the now bound champion, the whites of his teeth glimmering in the light of the single naked bulb. Chris maintained his angry stare, never even blinking as he stared at his tormentor. Wesker started undoing the latches on his combat vest, the padding fell swiftly to the floor, as did the undershirt that followed it. The tyrant's pure, snow-white skin was captivating; showcasing his own athletic figure. His hands traveled downward, they began to undo the silver buckle on his belt. Chris knew this wasn't something worn in combat, the thing was made of heavy, taught, black leather. This accessory was made for a different purpose altogether. Wesker's hands looped the belt; making it clap loud and clear as the two sides of it smacked together. The sight and sound was intimidating beyond compare. With subtle anticipation the brute asked him, "Are you ready for a new kind of training, Officer Redfield?"

Before he could even let his victim answer he flicked the tip of the belt at his prisoner's bare abdomen. Chris bit his lower lip, holding in his exclamation of agony. There was now a large red streak going across his stomach from where the belt struck him. The brute laughed, "Ah yes I think you're enjoying this already!"

Wesker cracked the belt again and began to walk behind him. It was nerve-wracking to the captive; he couldn't see his tormentor. He couldn't prepare himself properly physically and mentally for whatever would come next.

He heard Wesker crack the belt again, and then the soles of his boots scrape on the concrete floor a couple times. Great pain abruptly filled the lower half of his back as the tough leather strap stuck him. He bit his lower lip once more so he wouldn't cry out. Another stinging sensation was felt a little higher a few seconds afterward. He maintained his silence but grunted this time. The blonde shouted, "I'll have you calling me 'Captain' once again by the end of all of this!"

Chris' body twitched, trying to shake off the ache as he replied in a haze with, "F-f-fuck o-off…"

Then the belt hit him in the corner of his right shoulder. Then he was struck in the middle of his spine. Wesker was whipping him at a furious pace, barely even giving the sensation of pain enough time to sink into his prisoner's nerves. By now Chris was shouting from soreness, his back was covered in red bruises and crimson cuts left by the leather. Although he was going numb he could almost feel a few cuts dripping blood down his back. The tyrant felt delight every time he gave a lashing to his prisoner. While he could have continued this for hours he was beginning to grow bored and he knew he was still on a schedule. He carelessly tossed the belt to the side and walked over to Chris. In an almost studious manner he looked at every gash he created, like an artist who studies a few lines they'd just drawn. His mouth drew close to Chris' mid-back and his tongue began to trace a few of the wounds. Chris gasped the sensation of this; it was both a blessing and a curse. Wesker's warm saliva burned but also eased the excruciating pain a little. His mind wanted to reject that notion however. The blonde madman continued to lick the bleeding gashes, savoring his rival's hot, rebellious, heroic blood. It was like a delicacy as it lay on his taste buds.

After a few more moments of enjoying the auburn man's lifeforce, the villain walked in front of his captive. "My, my Chris…you taste very intriguing and yet repulsive…"

The detained martyr mockingly asked, "Christ, what are you, a vampire now?"

Wesker chuckled at the statement as he stroked the prisoner's chin with an index finger, "Of course not, Christopher. Any higher being can appreciate something as important as blood. It is essential for life of course; however I'm a little curious as to how another liquid of yours might taste…"

Chris was so worn out he barely was able to ponder on his enemy's statement, not immediately understanding the innuendo.

Placing a light kiss on the appealing muscled stomach, the relentless fiend then moved down a little further, placed another one until he was making a trail downward. He reached the still unerect organ and let his pallid lips swallow it whole. Chris was startled by the action, the very thought of his rival pleasuring him was beyond bizarre. He tried to ignore the perfect movements of his former Captain's tongue and lips as they worked their forbidden art. He was almost successful until the fiend pulled off his gloves and cupped his balls with one hand; tugging on them lightly as he continued orally pleasuring him. Even these sensations made him completely forget the aches that were in his arms at this point. Chris' cock was growing harder with each sensation created by the blonde devil. Through half-open eyes he gazed upon his adversary smiling as he performed his sinful work; the tip of the madman's tongue toyed with the head before sliding down the shaft. There Wesker took one of his balls in his mouth and began to suck on it. His hand began to jerk at the hardened member. The brute's senses being filled with the sensual and musky scent of his prey; driving him wild for more. Chris closed his eyes again, taking it all in.

He murmured, "God…" feeling Wesker groan as he went on, the vibrations and the smooth tugs of his strong hand making it almost too good. The captive tried to shake off the notion that it was really the evil tyrant and not some beautiful girl giving him this. He tried to imagine that beautiful girl, perhaps Jill, perhaps Sheva. However, it would be futile. It was that devious man that he'd fought against for so long, no other. His conscience gave up from despair and being out of his mind. Deep down he knew that was what Wesker wanted but he was too worn down to care.

"_Just don't show him you like it…_"

He knew that it was too late; his body had already gave itself up as soon as those devious lips touched his flesh. The knight could no longer keep disregarding the satisfaction of it all; his member was at full attention now.

Wesker began to suck and pump harder, Chris' head rolled back; biting his lips as he tried desperately not to show his delight out-loud. The feeling was too great to keep at bay, an erotic moan burst from his throat. His body shivered with rapture.

The sexual deity ceased his sinful ritual, he got what he wanted, a stream of milky pre-cum began to come out of the slit in Chris' dick and drip down onto his fingers. Wesker's tongue greedily began to lick it up, leaving not a drop. He let it stay in his mouth for some time, studying the taste just as he had with the hero's blood. Afterwards, a coy smile appeared on his face, "Very good. I thoroughly enjoy the sick tastes a pathetic human like you has to offer; disgusting and yet highly addictive."

The dark-haired man shot an annoyed glance as he panted, his body still winding down from the excitement. Anger darted up his spine, he exhaled and made his bound feet swing at the blonde; the knuckles in his toes stuck his enemy's jaw with a decent amount of force. It was enough to make Wesker's face turn the other way. Chris tightly shut his eyes, his arms and legs were on fire with pain from the sudden physical effort. The tyrant shifted his jaw for a moment before glaring and wiggling his index finger at him, "That's a big no-no, Christopher."; mocking him as if he were a child.

Immediately Wesker grabbed the chain that kept his victim suspended in the air and pulled on it. The gears of the hidden machine that hoisted the chain could be heard grinding before snapping off somewhere; offering no resistance to the awesome strength. Suddenly Chris was falling fast, his back hit the concrete. He coughed a couple times, nearly being knocked out by the harsh fall.

He saw his former Captain's face staring down at him, and then the sole of his boot coming down; returning the previous insult Chris had given him. The treads of the shoe were digging hard into his cheek, as Wesker applied more pressure; his victim's face became more one with the cold floor; his head was turned sideways practically. Wesker's foot abruptly lifted off, and then immediately rained down upon his torso. Soon his upper body was met with a flurry of physical attacks, knuckles and tips of boots crashing into him. Wesker screaming all the while, "You little piece of shit! I go against my better judgment and entreat you to the slightest bit of gratification and you take advantage of it! You'll regret making that mistake!"

The beating lasted for several minutes, the lord of brutality found great delight in his punishment; laughing maniacally with each strike.

After a few minutes more of this, it stopped like it began, abruptly. The bruised and battered prisoner laid on the floor practically wheezing as he did his best to recover and remain conscious; his voice weak as he said, "I…want…nothing from…you…"

The dark god scoffed, "Ah but you will soon enough, Chris. You'll be begging me to please you before I end your life."

He turned to the remaining Majini guard in the room, and walked directly in front of him. His hands fished around in the pocket of the man's military khaki pants, the zombie-like being made no attempt to stop him; simply staring off into a space of nothingness. Within another moment, Wesker's ivory hands pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a cheap plastic blue lighter.

Wesker put them both in his left hand before shoving the heel of his palm into the guard's face; a loud crunch sounded in the room. The Majini fell to the floor, completely lifeless now.

He removed a single cigarette from the pack before throwing it carelessly onto the body of their previous owner. He put the light to his lips, then lit it with a single flick of the lighter; dropping it onto the floor like the pack before.

The villain took a brief drag off the cigarette before holding it with two fingers, he then exhaled; a trail of wispy smoke emitted from his mouth. While slicking back an out-of-place-blonde-lock he said, "You know, I've never been a big fan of cigarettes. Smoking is a disgusting habit in my opinion."

He took another drag, exhaling longer this time, "Some people say it has a soothing effect… However, I find it to be useful for something else…"

Chris watched the fiery orange of the lit end approach his exposed stomach slowly. The heat of it was tiny but severe as Wesker made it hover over his skin; suddenly he could feel the scorching embers make contact. The hero's breathing became erratic as he tried to fight off the urge to scream. His tormentor simply kept dragging the hot end of the light down his abdomen, never pressing too hard to where put out the embers but carefully and skillfully gliding the cigarette along his body. By the time the cigarette reached his navel, Chris cried out; his entire being stiffened up as he did. The savage god pulled it away, a bright red streak now ran down his captive's stomach. The knight turned his head, trying not to look at his antagonist continue his sadistic deed. This time Wesker drove the light hard into Chris' right shoulder, a small sizzling sound could be heard as smoke fumed from the suffocated embers. The victim writhed in agony. Albert Wesker chuckled as he watched his former subordinate struggle. He tossed the now useless butt to the ground, and then revisited the Majini corpse; getting another cigarette. After lighting this one he towered over Chris, as he looked down upon him the tyrant enjoyed a few moments with this one. When he was finished he flicked the remaining excess ashes onto the helpless man. Wesker sighed, "Oh you're getting bored with this aren't you? I knew it couldn't last long. You're always going from extreme to extreme, Chris. That could be fatal in the long run you know…but for now I'll push the envelope a little more for you since you're so over this."

He kneeled down and turned his captive's head so they were face to face with each other. Wesker's hands moved toward Chris' face, like before the burning spot approached gradually. The bright end began to head for the right blue eye, the young man's pupil dilated as it came closer. A bead of sweat ran down his face. He yelled out, "Stop! I'll do whatever you want just stop this!"

A Cheshire Cat grin appeared on the tyrant's countenance, "Say 'Please stop, Captain'…"

Chris Redfield opened his mouth to speak, but said nothing for a moment, the words caught his tongue they were so against his normal nature. Reluctantly he pronounced the sickening plea, "Please stop…Captain."

Bile built up in the auburn man's throat. He was ashamed for giving into such demands. Wesker practically beamed with joy at the sound of the otherwise impossible phrase coming from his rival. The tormentor flung the cigarette like the one before it before saying, "Alright we'll play a new game. I think we'll enjoy this one more anyway…"

The blonde eyed another set of chains hanging on a wall opposite of the previous one, it was a set of four; a clamp for each arm and leg of the prisoner. They too were upheld by a pulley system that ran down a track about the ceiling. The fair hand pulled them along till they were free from any obstruction.

Chris groaned, "Dammit! Didn't we already go through this?"

His rival shook his head and smiled, "Ah but I intend to spice this round up a bit, Christopher."

He removed the rusty manacles that had bound Chris for what seemed like ages; his prisoner weakly moved his hands and feet. Blood slowly began to flow back into the veins more freely. This freedom, however, was momentary. The imprisoned knight would know bondage once more as Wesker's hands moved quickly in restraining him again, he pulled Chris' ankles up to reach the metal clamps. After the madman was finished the champion found himself suspended in the air once more; it was almost like a crude version of a swing as the chains made his arms and legs stretch out as if he were like Da Vinci's "Vitruvian Man".

The chains spread Chris' legs painfully wide open, leaving nothing hidden to the imagination about his anatomy. The sadist removed the dark aviators to let them fall to the floor, glowing red reptilian eyes stared with maddening desire at the very orifice the sadistic mind had longed for all this entire time. Between the long, muscular legs lay the tyrant's outlet for his sexual needs; a hole that was tiny and complete with a tantalizing light pink color; the perfection of it made it clear that Chris was a virgin. The sight tapped into the villain's feral side; he couldn't even begin to hold himself back. Maliciously he snickered, "Foreplay is over, Chris."

Without another word the tyrant unzipped his pants, and nearly tore them off his body as if they were a bothersome second skin; leaving them to fall on the concrete floor in a puddle. The savage god was now fully nude, his body was nothing short of divine; it was like a flawless marble sculpture. Besides its obvious excellence, it was complete with a morbidly erotic member; one that was the embodiment of long and thick. The captive gasped as his eyes widened, not wanting to even guessing the length of it; thirteen inches? The golden-haired brute smiled with obvious pride as he stood in the light, "Don't worry, Chris. The virus didn't do this; this was a gift I was born with…among other things."

He leaned over to bring his face frightfully close to his prisoner's, crimson eyes locked with cerulean blue eyes; Chris felt a strange sensation as he looked deep into the terrifying orbs. They were hypnotizing; he was almost so paralyzed he couldn't even begin to struggle as he felt the broad tip of Wesker's cock brushing against his inner thigh. The tyrant let out a sigh of relief as he caressed his prey's skin. He moved closer to the source of his cravings; Chris felt his heart beat furiously as the seconds passed; fully knowing what was about to happen. The blonde thrust his hips forward, the head of his organ delving hard into the soft, warm flesh. Wesker gasped, the sheer pleasure instantly overtook him. His hands clamped down on the hero's waist. Instantly the sex-crazed deity's arms and legs began to work in unison; hips pushing back to let the large member move out of the pleasing entrance, arms pulling the darker man's frame away from the blonde's frame; only for them both to slam back into each other. Chris screamed, "Fuck! Stop! Ahh! Stop! You son of a bitch!"

The oppressor licked his lips in excitement, "Yes…louder!"

Even more force was put into each thrust that went inside the petite space. The entire lower half of Chris' body was stricken with excruciating pain from the brutal exercise. His throat was burning from yelling; parched like the Sahara. Hoarsely he exclaimed, "You fucking bastard! I'll send you to hell for this shit! Ahh!"

The porcelain lips purred in his ear, "Ah but I'm certainly enjoying Heaven…"

The malicious blonde's mouth encompassed his victim's, feeling his hot salvia burning with hatred and hurt. As his hips continued bucking he broke the kiss, his mouth hung half open as the feeling of Chris' virgin blood trickled down his thigh and coated his cock. Another murmur of pleasure escaped from him. He pulled out of his prey completely, letting a thumb swipe across the top of his dick; he tasted the blood as he'd done before. He licked his thumb clean before letting the taste slide down his throat.

It was all Chris could do to hold back the tears. He spat, "Dammit! You sick freak! If I ever get out of these chains I'll fucking kill you!"

The villain brushed his lips against the prisoner's neck, where he bit him roughly and almost playfully. "Yes, fight me, Chris! I love to make your blood boil with your revolting idea of what you deem right and wrong! I'll love crushing those ridiculous ideologies along with your life!" he growled.

This sparked an intense reaction from the dark-haired man, he began to kick and yell as much as he could. Wesker caustically laughed in response, seeing his rival angry and desperate merely incited another round of rough penetration. As this rough intercourse continued the burning heroic nature of the auburn knight began to fade, his willpower had been taken on a rollercoaster this whole mission; one minute full of hope and determination; then full of despair and regret the next. It was at this exact moment in his life that the champion had truly given up.

He was so worn down that all he wanted to do was end this. He knew the only way to do that was give into Wesker completely; to show Wesker that he couldn't fight anymore.

"Alright, Wesker. I give up. You win. I can't keep going." his voice broken and hopeless.

Instantly the tyrant ceased his violent thrusts and grinned, "What's the matter, Chris? Don't you like this game?"

His victim sighed, "No. I don't. Now what will it take to get you to finish this?"

Wesker's face came close to his, "I already told you, I want you to give into me; to see you defeated and openly desire pleasure from me."

Apathetically the man replied, "Fine. Just get me out of these chains and let me have some water." The blonde ran a finger down his rival's neck, "Call me, Captain first…"

Chris closed his eyes, "Captain, may I be released and have some water?" 'Captain' Albert Wesker planted a kiss on the smooth lips, "Very good."

The tyrant released his prisoner, quickly unlocking the clamps. He scooted the pail of water to the pitiful soul with his boot. Chris sat on his knees; his hands shook violently as he tried to pick it up. His muscles were too worn out and hurt to perform such a task. Wesker chuckled and without a word lifted the edge of the bucket to the auburn man's lips; he gulped it down fiercely. A bit of water spilled over the brim, it made a course down the neck and chest of Chris' body. He shivered as he felt it; it soothed the skin where it trickled. He tried his best to savor it, knowing it would be his last taste of water; in essence his last meal. When he was finished quenching his thirst he lightly pushed the bucket away. He held his head low as he said, "Okay. So you want to finish this right here and now?"

The blonde laughed, "On this cold concrete floor? And I thought you didn't like the pain, Chris!"

He pointed to the torture room, "I think we'll find those tables in there to be a little more enjoyable…"

Chris summoned all his strength to make the short journey out; he practically limped and collapsed against the table nearest to him; with Wesker trailing right behind him. The young man hoisted himself up onto the metal surface; feeling the cool, smooth-as-glass steel underneath him gave him goosebumps that ran down his legs and up his back. He looked at his ex-Captain, "Alright. Come on."

The devilish gentleman stepped in front of his now willing toy, "Since you've been such a good sport I'll make this a little easier on you." His showing of mercy to his mortal enemy was nothing but another ego trip. He continued, "Now spit in your hand."

The dark-haired man complied and gathered what little he could saliva he could; spitting it out on his open palm. "Now touch my cock."

The champion was hesitant, fearing contact with the enormous phallus that had hurt him so earlier. Wesker grabbed his wrist, "Come on."

His hand guided him, letting his fingers brush against his shaft first; soon Chris' entire hand was resting on it; feeling it throb underneath his open hand. It reacted to his touch, extended a little further out; getting harder. The knight began to wrap his fingers around it, he gripped Wesker's dick as tightly as he could before stroking him. Wesker bit his lip in approval. Soon his member was slick with spit. After a few minutes of this he pressed his body against Chris'; letting his hard sex brush against his toy's own. He made the man lean back until he was lying on the table; his ex-subordinate's legs hung off the edge.

The blonde forced them apart, once he found himself inside the tight, sensuous confines of his rival's orifice. His movements were slightly more gentle this time; Chris' saliva made his member slide in and out more smoothly. He held him down by his wrists, even though he knew he didn't need to; his captive wouldn't fight now.

For the moment Chris forced himself to clear his mind of all thought. The pain in the lower half of his body had subsided for the most part; as his muscles had adjusted to the size of Wesker and he was almost numb too. Chris had never thought about being with another man even once in his life, he was too focused on saving the world to even contemplate having sex with women half the time; but his mind tried to work through the notion.

"_What does it matter if I actually manage to get off on something this screwed up? Hell this is probably the last time I'm gonna get laid. He'll kill me after this._"

He opened his legs a little more; giving Wesker more room. The pair began to work like a machine; the piston driving smooth and fast into its destination. Pale, white flesh melting into tanned, dark flesh. Suddenly Wesker hit a spot inside Chris that made him practically jump; his cock immediately getting solid. His enforced lover flicked his hips once more, hitting the tantalizing spot again. The dark-haired man wrapped his legs around the blonde's waist by reflex. Wesker growled, "Ah you like that, don't you? You little whore! I told you this is how it would end!"

Chris wasn't sure if this was Wesker's idea of dirty talk or if he really was insulting him but he ignored the statements; simply forgetting who he was, where he was, and who he was with; forgetting about the world outside that he'd no longer have to defend and his failure of losing to his eternal enemy. All that mattered at this very moment was the immense rapture that was consuming both of them. A moan of satisfaction escaped the enchanted knight's lips, "Uh…fuck…"

The two masculine forms were covered in hot sweat as their pace picked up even faster. Chris brushed his cheek against Wesker's in the heat of the moment, his scruffy facial hair lightly scratching the smooth skin. The sinister man laughed with pride as his rival moaned in his ear. Chris sunk his teeth into the soft white flesh of Wesker's neck; his mind was overloaded and instinct drove him to do this.

He simply needed something to bite. His enemy groaned, "That good eh? Mmm…" and then returned the favor by sinking his teeth into Chris' shoulder. The lesser man moaned and dragged his nails down Wesker's back, leaving long and deep scratch marks; for once it was the human's turn to inflict wounds upon the god. Soon they were a blur of writing muscle, biting and kissing each other fiercely. Loathing and loving were now the same word; there was no line to separate them. These two opposite entities now using each other for the shameless satisfaction, nothing else existed; and nothing else was more important.

Without warning, the blonde tugged away from his opposite's grasp and sat on the table. He grabbed the young man and pulled him onto his lap; his back turned to Wesker. He grappled Chris' waist and began to slam him up and down on his erect member. It wasn't long before the ex-subordinate was making the movements on his own.

The tyrant nibbled on his earlobe before saying, "Perfect…"

Tightly he gripped Chris' inner thigh, holding him down on his cock before taking control of the rhythm again. As he bucked forward his other hand reached around his enemy's waist to grope the dark-haired man. The sensation was mind-blowing to Chris; Wesker began to pump the organ as he continued bucking. By now both men were freely showing their pleasure, their moaning was a sexual hymn as it filled the torture chamber; neither missing a beat of their sordid dance. Chris felt as though his body was on fire at this point, the intensity was almost too much; his heart raced as he felt that indescribable pressure building inside of his balls. Wesker's hand slid down his erection and hit his spot one more time before he felt the immense and beautiful release. The tainted champion's fluid shot out; the first jet falling onto the white tile floor, the second onto the top of the metal table, and the third dripping down Wesker's porcelain fingers that still gripped him. Chris felt Wesker's lips caress the back of his neck as he whispered, "Very good…"

He continued drilling into his rival, seeking his own satisfaction. His body could last for days in this affair, but time was running short and Wesker was way behind schedule.

He focused in on the gratifying sensation of the lesser man's hole, laid back, and slammed him down on the throbbing member. The motion struck the right nerves; Chris felt it erupt inside of him; hot come filling his space. Wesker's hands eased off of him. They both relaxed for a moment; taking in the last traces of their climaxes; almost dumbstruck by the physical release. With seconds the harsh reality returned to life, they were mortal enemies that despised each other's existence once more. The tyrant shoved his prey off of him; causing his victim to fall on the ground. The hunger for sexual gratification and his curiosities about the man was sated; he no longer needed him for anything else.

Chris watched the callous villain disappear into the smaller concrete room to fetch his clothes. He laid there for awhile, what just happened was seemed surreal to him now; all of it seemed as if it took place in a different world.

He still had that odd feverish feeling, yet now he felt truly sick. He couldn't tell if being in this hellish place he'd caught an infection or if he was simply disgusted with the outlandish affair that happened with Wesker.

"_What does it matter? I'll be dead in a few minutes anyway._"

He closed his blue eyes and waited for his executioner to finish getting dressed; not thinking about anything while trying to ignore the uncanny sickness that was beginning to plague him.

A few minutes later, he felt the dark presence of his enemy standing over him. His eye lids opened; his gaze was transfixed upon the morbid image of what was to be the last being he'd see, his former superior adorning the very uniform that he betrayed him in.

Wesker cocked his head, as if to ponder something as he looked at the valiant knight, "I had an awfully good time with you, Christopher. I just had a thought; I could keep you in this hell hole for the rest of your life. After I'm done transforming the world into a paradise I could come back and let you be my little dog; I'd take you out to play whenever I wanted…"

Chris scoffed at the notion, "No thanks. I'd rather be dead."

The blonde shrugged, "Pity… Oh well. You're not the only good fuck toy on this planet. I'll finish this here and now then."

The champion felt his stomach churn, he didn't feel that afraid of dying; but his body seemed to. The pain in his stomach grew worse; it began to spread throughout his body. His muscles were beginning to seize up. This was no common fever.

"_Jesus, after all these years of him wanting to kill me you'd think he'd be a bit quicker about it. This flu is gonna kill me before he does._"

Droplets of sweat began to dot his forehead.

Wesker mocked him, "Aw is the handsome hero afraid to die? Alright I'll make it quick. I am on a tight schedule after all…"

His hand hovered over his enemy's left bicep, he intended to rip out his beating heart out of his chest and crush it with his bare hand. The powerful villain was delighted at the very thought, and there was nothing to stop him this time. He drew his hand back, ready to have it diving into his helpless victim. Chris took a deep breath in, hoping he wouldn't feel the pain of dying in such a fashion. He'd spent so much time trying to think of nothing that suddenly all these thoughts began to cloud his mind in what was supposed to be his moment of clarity. Most of these thoughts were of his dear sister, Claire; she would be off saving the world in ways he couldn't right now. He was ashamed of himself that he'd failed to stay with her. "_Someone else will protect her though. Someone else will stop Wesker. There's still a lot of good guys in the world… Sheva… Barry… Leon… Rebecca… Maybe they can even save Jill… They'll find a way. It's okay to die here…_"

As Wesker's hand started to hurl itself at Chris, he felt the adrenaline rush of fear overtake him. It all seemed to take place so slow. He knew Wesker's hand was moving at an insane speed, yet he could watch it as if he were watching a replay of a great pass in a football game on some sport channel. He watched Wesker's fingers travel downward, in another half of a second they'd be prying his heart out of him. His hand stopped abruptly, halting its course; Chris could feel the very tip of Wesker's middle finger on his skin.

He exhaled out of shock, and wondered what stopped his enemy from finishing his task.

Even behind his trademark shades, Chris could see his eyes studying him. An expression of confusion formed on the pale lips. Wesker gripped the dark-haired man by his chin and looked him deep in the eyes. Something obviously caught his attention.

After a moment of examination, a wicked grin swept over the sinister visage. "Ha! Once again I should have expected nothing less from you, Chris…"

A surge of pain shot through the young man's body, it was almost blinding. "What…are you…talking…about?"

To Chris, the room felt like one big incinerator at this point; but there was no fire. A loud buzzing noise filled his eardrums, his hearing cut in and out as he watch Wesker's lips answer him.

"…how lucky…Redfield bloodline…the right genes…never expected…that Progn-…could use that form of transmission…to think…not worthy…but again I should have expected nothing less…"

He watched the blonde remove something from a vest pocket; it was a syringe and a vial with "PG67A/W" inscribed on the label. He set them down on top of the table next to them.

He spoke plainly, "You'll be needing this later…"

Wesker took a step towards the exit; before he could take another Chris grabbed him by his ankle. "What…?", his voice full of suffering.

Wesker kicked his hand away and then drew a small knife from a sheath on his utility belt. He held the flat edge of the blade over Chris' face; the tormented man looked at it. The blade was so clean one could use it as a mirror, as he stared at it a moment longer he realized something was wrong. Something was wrong with his eyes. There was a tiny ring of yellow around his pupils, a few red specks dotted amongst the sea of blue that was his iris. The sight sent Chris into a frozen panicked state; suddenly the disturbing sensations he'd been feeling made sense.

His whole body felt like the blood of the Licker he'd killed hours before when it was spattered on his skin; unnatural. The horrible thing that made the very creature, the horrible thing that destroyed entire families, the horrible thing that chased him through dark hallways of abandoned mansions, the horrible thing that hid in the blackness of underground laboratories, the horrible thing that stalked people in arid deserts, the horrible thing that he'd hunted for most of his life, the thing that started this whole nightmare…_was now inside him_.

The frightening thought sent Chris into madness. He began to kick and scream with uncontrollable rage. He grasped the ends of Wesker's pant-legs, "FINISH THIS! KILL ME! PLEASE KILL ME!"

The antagonist shoved his hands away, "As much I enjoy the sound of you begging me to kill you I'm afraid I can't do that now, Chris. Fate has altered everything. Besides, killing you would be like killing a part of me…"

As if he didn't hear a word his enemy said, the tragic hero yelled once more, "KILL ME!"

Wesker continued walking towards the exit doors, "Oh Chris! You're like a broken record… Settle down and let it take its course. You've received a very special gift after all! It just takes some time getting used to. When you get out of here, the world will be a very different place…and you'll be a very different Chris…"

With that the tyrant flung open a metal door and strolled out; ready to make his journey out of the labyrinth of the secret facility, and into the outside; where he intended to begin making his new world.

The ill-fated champion watched him go, convulsing with insanity and suffering as the horrible thing inside him began to take over his body; assimilating with his own cells. His vision began to blur, the world becoming a haze of melting colors. His back arched as his hands gripped the legs of the tables beside him; the solid steel beginning to bend from the immense pressure his hands caused as he squeezed it tight.

His mind kept repeating his enemy's words, "_…killing you would like would be like killing a part of me._"

A remnant of the vile man was inside him. Every second that went by would be once second closer for the man to become a monster like the one that just walked out of this room. It was swimming in his blood, seeking to consume his entire being. He felt as if his heart were going to burst right out of his chest. No words could express the very magnitude of the fever now; it was beyond unbearable. There was no escaping this. The lights began to shut off, the bulbs burning out. Only a single one managed to stay on; his form thrashing about in almost total darkness.

In the other room The Lady of Flame sat idly in her broken cryotank; silent and unmoving as before. Her cynical and captivating eyes stared off as they had for many years now; as if she were quietly brooding over the recent events that just took place in her tomb. The fallen hero's cries flooded the entire complex, cries that would only be heard by her and her fellow dead.

It was another unimaginable tragedy, another hellish nightmare made real inside the dismal walls of Hell's Root.

* * *

**Ending Notes**: I know when I first published the story I thought about continuing this story, but I've decided I like the story the way it is. Sometimes if you mess with something too much it ends up ruining it. Eventually when I return to this fandom I may reuse the idea of Wesker dealing with a transformed Chris in a different story/setting, but as always only time will tell. Anyway thanks for reading!


End file.
